


A Woman's Work

by Aloysia_Virgata



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3129767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloysia_Virgata/pseuds/Aloysia_Virgata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A magnet cut in half develops two opposite poles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Woman's Work

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the awesome beta team of Hummingfly67 and Dasha K

**No matter what happens, if all the china in the pantry falls with a crash, she must not appear to have heard it. No matter what goes wrong she must cover it as best she may, and at the same time cover the fact that she is covering it. - _Etiquette in Society, in Business, in Politics, and at Home_ by Emily Post  
  
  
***  
  
The wood was hard and solid against her back, flotsam in a surging sea. Her skin, her brain - the very air - were hot and buzzing with alcohol and recklessness. It was like standing in a downpour before the thunder came. She felt daring; breathless. Alive with the potential of her betrayal.   
  
She felt like bottled lightning.   
  
There was something else happening, something more than her future brother-in-law pushing her back on the dining room table where they had shared a polite introductory meal. Something was taking shape inside her head - a test of destiny. Tempting fate, the Gods, anyone who could object. Kara gazed at Lee through half-lidded eyes and imagined daisy petals falling to the grass. _He catches us, he catches us not_. She wondered if she really loved Zak, or if she loved the way he made her feel less uncomfortable in her own skin. She wondered if Lee loved him. If he catches us, she thought, it isn't meant to be, and it's for his own good. She moved like she was in a trance, unsure of what she wanted from this. Cosmic direction, she supposed.   
  
A sign?   
  
A kiss.   
  
And the glass fell.   
  
"Something's broken," Zak slurred, still asleep, really, but his words had the power to wake her from the dream she was walking through.   
  
_Something's broken.  
  
_ Lee pulled back, panting and shamefaced, and she hated herself for the wrench of disappointment. She smoothed a placemat, then climbed off the table, sweat beginning to dry on her skin in the cooling air. Her rubric had not accounted for Zak waking but remaining oblivious. Where did this leave things? The universe, as usual, had frakked up her plans.   
  
Kara held out her hand and Lee took it, as they forgave each other but not themselves. She saw him to the entryway and he walked through it into the hall. "Kara," he began, from the other side of the threshold. She closed the door in his face and gave no thought to how he'd get himself home. "  
  
Kara," his brother called sleepily from the couch. "Can you get me something for my head?"   
  
She turned, her own head leaden and achy, and offered him the closest thing she had to a comforting expression. "Be right back," she said, walking to the bathroom. The harsh fluorescent light hurt her eyes, but she forced them open, taking in their red-rimmed appearance. Her hair was sallow, her skin washed out under the cheap bulbs. Kara retrieved a plastic bottle of pills from the shelf and returned to the living room. She offered it to Zak, who was half-sitting, propped on the armrest.   
  
"Thanks," he mumbled, popping off the lid. "Where's Lee?"   
  
"He needed to go."   
  
Zak dry-swallowed a couple of capsules, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry I crashed. Were you a good hostess?" he teased, pulling her close. "Did you bake a pie and tell charming stories?"   
  
She smiled like it didn't hurt. "Your brother's nice," she answered, which wasn't an answer at all. She pulled her shirt off to distract him, and it fell to the floor with a soft noise.   
  
Zak looked up at her appreciatively, then pressed his cheek to her stomach, his arms loose about her hips. "He's noble, is what he is. To the point of being a dick, really, though he means well enough." His tongue followed the rim of her navel.   
  
Kara smoothed her hand over Zak's tousled hair. "Failed and weak, to darkness all," she quoted absently.   
  
Zak laughed, his breath warm against her skin. "That's a real optimistic view of human nature."   
  
She laughed too, and it felt like broken glass in her mouth. "Let's get you to bed," she said.   
  
"I love you," he told her, tugging at the button on her pants.   
  
"I know you do," she whispered. She didn't cry.   
  
* **  
  
There are ladies who uniformly smile at and approve everything and everybody, and who possess neither the courage to reprehend vice, nor the generous warmth to defend virtue. The friendship of such persons is without attachment, and their love without affection or even preference. - _The Book of Household Management_ by Mrs. Beeton**   
  
*  
  
It was cold in the belly of the great ship _Galactica_. After a stretch of furious pacing, Kara had spent a surly hour huddled in the corner, cursing Tigh’s inadequate liver and the remaining hairs on his gleaming head. She knew the Old Man had intervened on her behalf, because there was no way his buddy the XO hadn’t stormed in with guns blazing, demanding her blood. She’d probably be out of this cage soon enough, but the indignity still left her sulking.   
  
Her muscles were stiff and achy from the chill and the inactivity. She uncrossed her legs and stretched them, then laced her fingers together and reached them upwards until her shoulders cracked. She challenged herself to complete fifty pushups before making any more snide remarks to the guard, and had made it through thirty-four when she heard footsteps.   
  
Lee stood before her like a visitor at the zoo taking in the same boring, familiar exhibits. Behold the endless tunnels of the prairie dog, the uninspired nest of the eagle, and the tedious bad behavior of Kara Thrace. She did her part by putting on a show of casual indifference, and he kept up his end with an expression of amused disapproval. The same old dance to the same tired music. She felt like the wind-up ballerina inside a music box, or an organ grinder's monkey. Lee looked glad to see her in spite of himself, and she allowed herself a moment of comfort at the sight of him. Zak used to be the buffer between them, but since he'd died, she couldn't decide if she and Lee attracted or repelled one another.   
  
A magnet cut in half develops two opposite poles.   
  
A flurry of bitterness, a brief exchange of unpleasantries, and the distance between them was defined anew. Kara mentioned the funeral only because the secret ate her like a cancer, and bringing it up would allow her to redirect her anger at Lee on his father's behalf. You see? she felt like saying. We miss him so much it's wrecking our lives. But you? You just moved on. _Captain._ She felt the bars gave her a noble, wounded air and she drank a dark swallow of pleasure at Lee's hurt expression when she ordered him out.   
  
Frakking Lee. He was such a godsdamned tightass you could bend him over and use him as a pencil sharpener. Pushing his buttons was so easy it was hardly fun, but she had been unable to refrain. Zak used to joke that she could resist anything but temptation. If only he knew…   
  
Kara examined her right hand, fanning the fingers out, then making a tight fist. Tigh always rose to the same pathetic bait, but his pickled brain made the whole thing exciting and unpredictable. It was not unlike bullfighting. Publicly, she made an open show of her contempt for his drinking and his tolerance for Ellen's indiscretions, which she (hypocritically, she knew) viewed as weakness on his part. But he had the Old Man's respect and, privately, that was a good enough recommendation of his character for her.   
  
But he was still a pussy-whipped drunk and she hadn't been about to take his shit at her card table. She smirked at the memory of punching him and wished she had opted for two quick jabs instead. There was always next time.   
  
Kara dropped to the floor and did sit-ups until her midsection screamed for mercy. She ignored the pain, because it's all she ever did with pain, and didn't stop until a whey-faced private showed up outside her cell, looking for all the world like the end of days had come.   
  
*  
  
 **The greatest and most universal error is teaching girls to exaggerate the importance of getting married; and of course to place an undue importance upon the polite attentions of gentlemen. - _The American Frugal Housewife_ by Lydia Maria Francis Child  
  
***  
  
Aphrodite, goddess of love, was born of the waves and had no mother. The west wind saw her rise up from the water on a bed of foam at dawn and drift gently to shore. Artemis, goddess of the hunt and twin sister of Apollo, inadvertently killed the man she loved. Kara prayed to them both.   
  
She wanted to tell herself that everything about the moment was a mistake, but her heart wasn't in it. Lee's mouth was firm and sweet against hers, and she had a fleeting thought of nectarines in high summer. There was no epiphany, no sudden truth or knowledge revealed when their clothes were finally crumpled among the blade-leafed scrub. Just another blurring of the border between sacred and profane.   
  
Hands over skin over muscle over bone. Kara's thighs were sweat-slicked and trembling, her knuckles white as her nails dug into Lee's shoulders. She stroked his body with her broken fingers, and let him touch her broken heart.   
  
She called his name under the strange moon.   
  
They lay in the powder-fine soil that would one day sit beneath her home, and it was so soft she could hardly feel it at all. Above their heads, the unfamiliar stars shone like arrow tips through the fabric of the night. Lee, bless him, believed this was the beginning of something. That it was the first day of the rest of their lives. He traced endless circles on her back, and believed that he had marked her.   
  
The world is so simple for you, she thought. Things are good or they're bad and you just stride forth down the path of righteousness and do as you must. You have no idea how dangerous that makes you.   
  
Scents of crushed sage and pennyroyal rose as he turned to her, looking drowsy and beatific. "They'll understand in time," he said. "I mean, this isn't exactly going to come as a shock to anyone, you realize."   
  
She closed her eyes for a moment. "No. It probably won't."   
  
He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Life is too short for second best." His hand fell from her waist as his eyes closed.   
  
Life is too short to put all your eggs in one basket, she thought, as his breathing became slow and deep. How do you take the risk of letting one person become everything you need? She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at his sleeping face. Trusting and serene. If it all fell apart, she'd have nothing left.   
  
She wondered - not for the first time - why Lee, for all his high-minded ideals, seemed to have no qualms about pursuing her while she was in a relationship with someone else. Did he really need her, or did he convince himself of it to cancel out his wrongdoings? Truth was, she could accept that with far more comfort than the notion that he really needed her as much as he said. She knew what it was like to be someone's one and only. Her mother had shown her what happens when you're the focus of that intensity. Sam loved her, of course, but she was fairly certain that Sam could have loved almost anyone under the right circumstances.   
  
Not Dee though. Gods. What Lee saw in that passive-aggressive little phony was utterly beyond her. Kara gritted her teeth at the thought of Dee's downcast lashes, the way syllables seemed to cling hesitantly to the inside of her mouth. It was so tempting to grab her fine-boned shoulders and shake the words out of her. She wasn't stupid though, and Kara was positive that those wide green eyes saw far more than Lee suspected.   
  
Lee shifted and made small noises in his sleep, and Kara smiled in spite of herself. She ran the tip of her index finger lightly down the bridge of his nose. It would be so easy. She'd end up as Kara Adama after all. Still be the Old Man's daughter. They'd stay on _Galactica_ , keep on flying, and nothing much would change.   
  
Until it did.   
  
And then where would she be? Unhappy at home, unhappy at work. Was she willing to wager this friendship on the off-chance that two hotheaded Viper jocks actually had a chance at something approaching a normal life? Was Lee really ready to marry her hangovers and her cigars and her various conjugal histories with fellow pilots? He knew she was faithless.   
  
It works for Helo and Athena, a voice piped up in the back of her head. Kara rolled her eyes at the thought. Yeah, it works for a frakking _Cylon_. Helo probably just opens up a secret panel and switches her from "pilot" to "wife" and things go swimmingly.   
  
She imagined growing old with him. Watching one another age day by day. Desk jobs and retirement. Faded glory and swan songs. She wanted to weather the peaks and valleys with him, but miles of plateau frightened her to the core. She breathed the tang of crushed green things again, and stared at the horizon. Let Dualla wear his ring. She had the parts of him that mattered most. Kara bent her head and kissed him lightly on the lips, her hair trailing over his cheekbones. He swatted at it in his sleep, but did not wake. She laughed and lay back down against him for a time.   
  
Kara rose with the sun, the dew cool and silver against her ankles as she moved into the west. She left her brother sleeping in the grass.   
  
**The oftener carpets are shaken, the longer they wear; the dirt that collects under them grinds out the threads. - _The American Frugal Housewife_ by Lydia Maria Francis Child**   
  
This is the first lesson Kara ever learned: Love is a fire contained in the spleen, and you have only yourself to blame if it gets loose and burns.   
  
“It’s over, Kara,” he’d said flatly, as though the decision were his alone. She felt the fire flare then, welling up in a flash below her ribs and rampaging white-hot through her until the very sight of him was almost more than she could stomach. Exultation sang through her throbbing cheek when he hit her; a rush of gratification, of victory at fracturing his stable veneer. Hate, she knew, is love disappointed, and desire can masquerade as fury.   
  
Her tags clinked like broken teeth when she dropped them into the box, and the floor of the ring was springy as moss beneath her feet.   
  
The first punch caught him solidly across the face, sending minor aftershocks down her arm. He looked surprised, but only swung halfheartedly. She danced around him, laughing and taunting, and caught him quickly with jabs to the head. She dodged his clumsy attempts on light feet, and the cheers and whoops of those watching made her even more determined to shatter his façade of detachment. To make him own that impulsive swing and really fight her.   
  
She never learned how to nurse heartache. Heartache meant you'd stopped keeping an eye on that fire, that you'd let it escape and scorch your brain. It was shameful, like wetting the bed. But if he'd just hit her again, she'd have signposts through this mire. A blown knee, a black eye. She could watch the symptoms flare and fade, marking her progress like a sundial. But the stupid pining bullshit was just pathetic. If he'd just frakking hit her again, she could heal. But no, he was treating this like a game. She'd seen him go at punching bags with greater intensity.   
  
Lee's first punch had caught her by surprise. It made stars fall down like rain, made her gasp and blink and lose her bearings. It stunned her like the first orgasm on New Caprica, and left her wondering if they could only really communicate when they spoke without talking.   
  
The second punch just pissed her off.   
  
She wanted to hurt him, to shame him, to make him feel the aching self doubt she'd suffered since taking her vows down by the water. She wanted to bleed him like a medieval barber surgeon, and drain the rectitude out of his veins. Kara swung her leg like a scythe, cutting him low and dropping him to the floor. She knew it would infuriate him, this breaking of the rules, and work past his determined indifference. He was so easy to manipulate.   
  
As anticipated, Lee went after her without reservation. His gloves thumped heavily against her torso and head until her body felt like one continuous bruise. She was fairly certain that her nose was broken, and exhaustion was coming over her in waves. She continued to hit and block him only because her throbbing arms were on autopilot.   
  
Everything hurt.   
  
She was tired of fighting the Cylons. She was tired of fighting her crewmates, tired of fighting herself. Kara fell against him and when he held her there, her struggle to move back was only perfunctory. Their sweat and blood ran together, falling in heavy drops against the floor. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was dimly aware of Sam and Dee, but she was too hollow to have strength for anyone else. Heat rose from him and permeated her skin, a shield against the killing wind that whistled through her bones.   
  
*  
  
 **In bidding good-by to a new acquaintance with whom you have been talking, you shake hands and say, “Good-by. I am very glad to have met you.” To one who has been especially interesting, or who is somewhat of a personage you say: “It has been a great pleasure to meet you.” The other answers: “Thank you.” - _Etiquette in Society, in Business, in Politics, and at Home_ by Emily Post  
  
***  
  
The grass was a rustling sea, cool and verdant beneath the foreign sky. Ten yards to the south was a group of skunks. She'd been watching their strong, blunt snouts nudge the soil around, snuffling as they churned up fat white grubs. They seemed cautious, but not fearful, and went about their skunky business with contentment. Kara plucked a few wildflowers, twining them idly though her hands. She watched the animals startle for a second as Lee trudged up the hill.   
  
He waved at her, hoisting a basket, and she dropped her mangled bouquet to wave back.   
  
"Whatcha got?" she asked as he sat down.   
  
"Plums, I think." He offered her one. "They're tasty."   
  
She accepted it and took a bite, sticky juices running down her chin. "Mmm." She wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Good hunting."   
  
He smiled at her, shielding his eyes from the light. "It's the least I could do. You found the planet, so I thought I could scare up a snack."   
  
Kara laughed around a mouthful of fruit, then tucked the seed into the grass as she swallowed. She splayed her fingers out before her, her sense memory blending the touch of the keypad and piano keys. Math and music. "It was the weirdest feeling," she told him, staring at the light and shadows on her skin. "I just knew."   
  
"The fleet commends your meritorious actions under extreme duress, Captain."   
  
"All in the line of duty, Commander." She saluted him.   
  
They did not mention Sam.   
  
"You did good, Starbuck," Lee said softly, slipping his arm around her shoulders.   
  
Kara shrugged and looked down, wondering what to say next. She wished she could tell him all she knew - what she had learned from Leoben-who-wasn't-Leoben as she was pulled into the swirling eye. That the universe expands and contracts like a great heart, filling itself with life and expelling it all again before the next beat. That time was a vast river whose surface changed but whose rocky bed remained unaltered. Circles within circles.  __  
  
I see an angel blazing with the light of God.  
  
She felt something stir inside her, a gentle but insistent tug. A kinder cousin to the pull that had led them to the ruins of Earth. A lump rose in her throat and she bowed her head.   
  
"Kara?"   
  
"I'm sorry," she said thickly, then cleared her throat before continuing. "It's just all so strange."   
  
Lee tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer. The rough fabric of the flight jacket scraped her shoulders as he tugged it off, but his mouth was tender and his hands were warm. She pulled at his shirt, his pants, and they chuckled with gentle, laughing breaths as their buttons and zippers stuck. Finally, they made a pile of green and gray beside their bare bodies. It felt good to be naked in the grass.   
  
The skunks pricked up their ears and went to ground.   
  
And the angel sang. 


End file.
